Page 15 of The Freedom in Captivity

Flynn

People don’t come into my space.

Out of respect for me and care for their own life, they don’t. It’s my place, my stuff,mine.

Bringing her here was a mistake, but it was the easiest way to contain her. Given the small space, she won’t be able to try anything.

Rozelyn’s tenaciousness used to make me smile, but this time, I fume. When my little captive heads for my bed instead of the door, I almost stop her right then, but curiosity to see what she’ll do keeps me still. The moment she sat on the edge was the moment she made a fucking mistake. Contrary to our previous conversation, she’ll do anything to get ahead, including dredging our shared past into the present.

I’ll let her play the game for a bit. She’ll think she’s in control, only to have me yank the chains and force her back into her rightful place.

Tell Nico, my inner voice suggests. In all those hours of sitting downstairs with her, it’s the decision my mind continued to return to. Hiding the truth feels like a betrayal to the family I owe everything to, and I don’t want to do that. Be that. Or worse, if Rozelyn opens her mouth and announces that fact, I’ll be the one to take the fall. Telling the Corsettis will mean no matter what level she drags her game to, they’ll ensure I don’t lose.

The moment she falls backwards onto my bed, I’m right there, grabbing the end of her leash and wrenching her upright until she’s sitting again. I stand between her legs, towering over her, bending as I angle her face up. Now I despise looping the chain in a way it won’t strangle her.

The bitch deserves to be strangled to death.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” I ask, keeping my words paced, so she feels the complete effect of each one.

Her lips curl up, a seductress’s practiced smirk. “Sitting, Flynn.”

“In my bed.”

“Observant.”

I growl, my irritation for her creating sharp spikes around my nerves. Done with this and needing her back downstairs and away from my room—my room, my safe space—I back up, taking her with me. Her feet dig into the floor, her hands into my chest, trying to get me to stop.

“Flynn, wait. Can’t we just talk?”

Talk? She wants to fuckingtalk? If her goal was to get me to stop pulling on the chain, she’s succeeded in this at least. “Talk,” I repeat. “The only reason you should be talking is to start handing over answers.”

She tugs against the chain again, still trying to gain control of it. “You don’t think it’s odd that after over a decade, we’ve found our way back to one another?”

Here it is. The seduction I’ve been expecting. She’ll aim to dredge up old emotions and use them against me. Unfortunately for her, I shoved all those away long ago. The guy she broke is no longer who I am.

Her right hand releases the chain and somehow, I know what she’s about to do even before she does it. She holds it up, palm toward me, the small, white starburst scar gaining my entire focus.

“This was a constant reminder of you, Flynn.”

“Sorry to be such a burden.” My own right palm heats, like talking about our twin scars is demanding my attention.

“No,” she counters with a gentle shake of her head. Her expression softens and she reminds me of the girl I first met on a bench by the smoke pit. “That’s not it at all. Sometimes, I thought that year was a dream, but this scar proves otherwise. It always grounded me when things got shitty because I’d think of you at first.”

“At first.”

Her gaze falters and her arm slowly lowers again, as does her frown. I think it’s regret I’m witnessing. “It’s been eleven years,” she finally whispers. “That’s a long time, Flynn. We’d both moved on from necessity.”

Necessity is correct. I had to survive, and then this organization found me, and I was reborn away from hell.

“But I’d still think back to the moment we did this. The promise we made to one another.”

Sitting against the brick wall of the school, Rozelyn leisurely drags her nails up and down my arm, her head on my shoulder. There are very few things in life I’ve found enjoyable, but her touch always calms the monster in my head. The erratic thoughts that make it difficult to focus sometimes.

“I never want to leave you, Flynn. I want us to always find our way back to one another.”

“We will,” I promise. “You’re inside me. I’ll always find you.”

“Can we seal that promise?” She lifts her head, twisting to better face me.

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